


Harry Potter and the Russian Dolls

by rubarbe9



Series: Harry Potter and the Alternate Schooling [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate schooling, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubarbe9/pseuds/rubarbe9
Summary: Absurd/meta story on the tropes in the canon and some tropes of the fannonEach year, Harry discovers that he is part of a more secret and elite society and goes to a new place for his education.





	Harry Potter and the Russian Dolls

"Harry -- yer a wizard."

"I'm a what?"

"A wizard. Yer're going to Hogwarts to learn magic!"

Harry took a step forward, eager.

"Magic? Are you saying that magic is real?"

"'f course it is. How d'yer think I managed to get to this ridiculous rock in this weather?"

"Wicked!"

And so eleven-year-old Harry Potter was off to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, he would make friends, learn spells and jinxes, explode potions, battle a supposed-to-be-dead Dark Lord and become the youngest Seeker in a century. But our story really starts after Harry had come back to his relatives' for the holidays.

 

One hot summer day, the unsuspecting young wizard was lounging in the shadows of the garden when he felt a disturbing buzzing in his mind. The buzzing slowly amplified, and soon it was all he could hear, even if it was in his head.

Taking his head into his hands, Harry tried to shake off the feeling but it only appeared to make things worse. He was bordering tears when the building pressure disappeared in a _pop_ and he heard a voice, clear as crystal:

"Harry Potter?"

Unsure how to answer a voice that was speaking to him in his head, Harry whispered:

"Yes?"

"Good, good, sometimes this telepathic business goes all wrong and I end up driving a Muggle mad..."

"Who are you and what are you doing in my head?"

"Good questions, lad! I am Mage Titus, professor at the prestigious Mage Academy. And you, young man, have just been accepted into our institution."

"Mage Academy? I've never heard of it. And I go to Hogwarts already."

"Of course you have never heard of it. It is a very exclusive establishment reserved to those few wizards and witches who have the potential to become Mages. And you, lucky chap, are one of them."

"What is a Mage? Are they some kind of super-wizards?"

"Indeed. A Mage is a witch or wizard with the ability to manipulate the elements. Earth, air, fire and water, at your disposal."

"And I'm a Mage?"

"You have the potential to become one, if you attend our Academy."

"Ah, thank you for your offer, but I like Hogwarts just fine."

"I'm afraid you won't be able to stay in Hogwarts in any case. Our Seers have predicted that the school will be closed within the year due to the unleashing of a murderous monster. Best join now so you don't miss out on anything."

"A monster? What do you mean? You should warn Professor Dumbledore!"

"Oh, he's been warned, he just won't believe us. After all, we are talking about the man who baited the shade of Voldemort into a school full of children using the Philosophers Stone just so he could put you to the test."

"He WHAT?"

"Come one, surely you had realised that it was all a set up by now."

"Alright, I'm coming!"

And so twelve-year-old Harry Potter was off to Mage Academy, the exclusive institution for the training of Mages. There, he would make friends, learn to manipulate the elements, explode potions, play Gobstone and discover that fire could burn buildings down, including centuries-old schools.

 

Back at the Dursleys for the summer -not to mention the time it took to reconstruct Mage Academy, Harry used his newly learnt powers to do his chores in his stead: washing the dishes was a lot easier when water answered him. He was exterminating the weeds in his aunt's flower beds by pulling out their life force when a golden orb appeared in front of him.

Curious, he held out his hand to seize it, but the moment it made contact, he was transported away.

He reappeared in what looked to be the antechamber of a Roman lord, for it was decorated with burgundy drapes and marble busts. A petite woman was waiting for him.

"Welcome to the Aevum, Mister Potter. We have been waiting for you for a long time."

"Where am I?"

"As I said, you are at the Aevum, the secret training facility for Masters and Mistresses of Time. Your time shaping abilities have just awakened so it was time for you to join us, if you'll excuse the pun."

"Time shaping? What is that again?"

"You are one of the lucky gifted individuals with the ability to manipulate time. Only one of ten thousand wizards ever get the gift. You are here to learn to use this ability and shoulder the responsibility. Do you accept?"

Shrugging, Harry gave his assent. After all, it was probably better than to go back to a school he had burnt to the crisps, where he would have to serve detention until the end of times.

And so thirteen-year-old Harry Potter entered the Aevum. There, he would make friends, learn to go back and forth in time, bring down some malicious djinns and use his gift to steal multiple treacle tarts from the kitchen.

 

Harry did not go back to the Dursleys that summer. For one, it would have been difficult to explain why and where he had suddenly disappeared to the previous year. It would also have been quite for Harry to return there when he could just skip through the summer. That's what he did: he launched himself into the future and stopped just one day before the Aevum would open its doors again.

For that single day, he stayed at the Leaky Cauldron in a fit of nostalgia of the days when he was just a simple wizard. That is where the elves found him. They came in a large group, fifteen of them, decked as if they expected to have to fight. They were nothing like the house elves that had worked at the house of some of his friends from Mage Academy and Aevum. They were tall, lanky and definitively not eager to please.

"Harry Potter?"

"Yes?"

"You are coming with us."

Harry took a step backwards, wary.

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"Wizards have lied to you: you are not human but an elf. Your true nature has been concealed by a spell but it will be revealed as soon as we get to Milbar."

An elf?

"Can you prove it?"

"No human would have been able to survive the Killing Curse, especially not so young."

"Okay. But why do I need to come with you?"

"It has taken us a long time to find you, Harry Potter. We have to remedy your lack of proper education. In Milbar you will get a tutor that will teach you all there is to elvish life."

"Do you have treacle tarts?"

And so fourteen-year-old Harry Potter was off to Milbar, the homeland of the elves. There, he made friends, learned how to hunt and forge beautiful but sturdy weapons, spoke with the beasts of the forest, got the kingdom rid of a pesky dragon and drew moustaches on his mentor's face while he was asleep.

 

He was nearing the end of his training when, on the night of his fifteenth birthday, an acute pain started in his chest and spread over his entire body. It felt like his bones were growing and shifting, like his skin was bubbling and his eyes were melting. All in all, the sensation was akin to the one when drinking Polyjuice, except with an ocean of pain. After what appeared to be days of torture but was really barely more than an hour, the pain subsided and Harry was left panting on his bed.

No sooner had he managed to regain his breath, a gust of wind invaded his room and with it a rotund person, who Harry could determine if they were male or female, as their body was covered entirely in scales.

"Greetings, young one."

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"The correct answer is: Greetings, wise one. But, well, I guess that's what we get from starting our youngs' education when they get their inheritance and not before?"

"I reiterate, who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"I am Ashka, your Slathom mentor. I have come to fetch you so we can travel to the Slathom dimension, your rightful place."

"My rightful place? You must be mistaken, I'm an elf. I don't even know of those Slathom you talk about."

"An elf? Maybe you were before, but look at you, you are now definitively a Slathom."

Harry looked down to himself and startled when he saw that his skin had been replaced by aquamarine scales. He even had a tail and wings.

"I have a tail."

"Ah, the young, so eager to state the obvious."

"No, seriously, what has happened to me?"

"You had your Slathom inheritance. Everything will be explained to you when we get to the Slathom dimension. It does us no good to stay in the human dimension for too long. Come."

And so fifteen-year-old Harry Potter was off to the Slathom dimension. There, he would not make friends, for he was only in contact with his mentor and their family, but he would learn to travel with the wind and to skip between dimensions, teach the local cook how to make treacle tarts and try unsuccessfully to burn the buildings down to crisps.

 

On the night of his turning sixteen, he was sitting on a balcony overlooking the Slathom capital when he felt a chill overtake his bones. Without turning, he grumbled:

"What now? Who are you and where do you plan to take me?"

"I, child, am Death."

"Death? That's a new one."

He turned, and indeed Death was standing next to him, in full regalia with its scythe and its hound.

"I would hope so. I am the one and unique Death, after all. Will you come with me, child?"

"Am I dead?"

"No, silly Slathom, I am offering you a place by my side, as a Reaper. You have shown great promise and good strength of character, I want you."

Harry sighed. For once, it appeared that he had a choice, and really, he should not want to move _yet again_ , but life as a Slathom was boring, all study and protocols and no play. So he stood up and took Death's hand.

And so sixteen-year-old Harry Potter was off to Limbo, where Death resided. There, he would make new friends, find his first love in another Reaper, learn to collect souls and guide them to the afterlife, terrorise the Dursleys with nightly apparitions and be told off by Death for it.

 

Harry's seventeen birthday went without any kind of apparition, letting him believe that for once he would be able to stay more than one year in a place. However, this time the messengers were merely late, and a few days later a couple materialised in front of him as he was lifting his scythe to take a life.

"Reaper Harry, we have come to offer you a place in the Olympus School for Gods and Goddesses."

"Thanks but no thanks."

His blade finished his course and he collected the newly freed soul into his bag.

"What do you mean, _no thanks_? Don't you realise what an honour it is to be offered a place among the gods? Don't you dream of almighty powers and dedicated worshippers?"

"Honestly, no, I don't. I'm pretty happy where I am now, so you can leave."

"But, but... You can't refuse! We need you as a new god. People are getting bored of the current pantheon, we need some new blood and yours would be perfect!"

"Sorry, but you'll have to find someone else. I'm not leaving my family, as weird and dysfunctional as it is."

"If you won't come willingly, we'll have to take you by force!"

"And alienate Death? I don't think so..."

The couple of gods looked at each other. They had obviously not expected that. The last god was had angered Death had been responsible for the Black Plague, and they had been lucky to avoid the extinction of the humans, their main source of worshippers. No, they definitively did not want to upset Death.

"Surely we can negotiate...?"

"No means no. Now go before I test my scythe on you!"

This had the gods disappear in a flash. Harry gave a little chuckle. Who were they to think that they could go against a Reaper, really? Death was the only true master of the worlds, and he was its child.


End file.
